


Five Times Cecil Went Home During the Weather

by valda



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Maybe a little tiny bit of plot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-03-29
Packaged: 2018-03-20 04:21:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3636561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valda/pseuds/valda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When it looks like the weather's going to be long enough, and Station Management isn't particularly bothered with him, and it won't otherwise imperil him to do so, Cecil goes home.</p><p>This week, weathers at home are <em>especially</em> nice, because Carlos is staying over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times Cecil Went Home During the Weather

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place before "Condos."

The weather always lasts as long as it needs to.

Sometimes it's very short, giving Cecil enough time for a cup of coffee (or, in the old days before they were suddenly _bad_ for your voice and he had to quit, a cigarette). Sometimes it's hours. Sometimes it's days.

Cecil doesn't usually know how long the weather will last, but he is pretty good at guessing, and he always knows when it's about to end. Carlos says it's like Cecil's internal body clock is attuned to the radio station, which is an interesting scientific metaphor for whatever is _really_ happening...especially when purred into Cecil's ear, the scientist's breath a hot huff across his neck.

When it looks like the weather's going to be long enough, and Station Management isn't particularly bothered with him, and it won't otherwise imperil him to do so, Cecil goes home. His apartment is a short walk from the station; if he hurries, he can be there in ten minutes. Like the weather, Cecil's show lasts as long as it needs to, and he's never sure how tired he'll be when the workday is over, or even that the workday will end. So whenever he can, he escapes the office, scrounges up some leftovers from the fridge, settles down on the sofa, and watches Netflix...or maybe puts in a little work on his latest slashfic. It's nice.

This week, weathers at home are _especially_ nice, because Carlos is staying over.

The scientist is studying a phenomenon in certain desert microorganisms that only happens at night. His original, terrible plan had been to sleep in the lab during the day, get up at sunset, and perform experiments until dawn. Fortunately, Cecil had managed to convince Carlos that this was ridiculous, that they would _never_ see each other that way, and that Carlos should simply set up a temporary lab in Cecil's spare room. This had, however, taken some effort.

"Why sleep on a lumpy, fold-out cot in a cold laboratory," he'd said, slipping his hands beneath Carlos' lab coat and smoothing his fingers along the scientist's sides, "when you can sleep in a comfortable _bed_...filled with blankets, pillows, and _heat_?" He'd tightened his fingers on Carlos' hips then, gently tugging him close. "I'll be just getting up when you go to bed." Arms sliding around the scientist, one hand holding him firmly at the waist and the other moving up to explore his back, Cecil smiled slyly, wet his lips, and dropped a lingering glance to Carlos' mouth. "I might even stick around awhile."

Carlos had managed an appreciative grunt, the majority of his attention focused on keeping Cecil's body pressed tightly against his as they stumbled awkwardly to the bedroom.

Afterwards, Carlos had finally agreed that yes, maybe it _was_ a good idea for him to stay and work at Cecil's apartment. Scientifically speaking, of course.

Cecil is not about to let this opportunity go to waste.

He's never snuck away during the weather more than twice a week before. This week, he's done it every day, power-walking home to the rumpled, tousled scientist in his bed. Sometimes Carlos is curled up on his side, clutching the blanket snugly around himself. Sometimes he's sprawled on his back, legs and sheets twisted together, mouth lolled open, wavy black hair falling over his eyes. Normally he's in a T-shirt and boxers, but sometimes he's still dressed, lab coat half shrugged off, face mashed into the pillow as though he'd tripped and fallen into bed, and maybe he had.

Cecil loves every new sleeping Carlos he discovers. He stands by the bed and watches the rise and fall of Carlos' chest, the sudden, jerky arm movements as Carlos shifts position, the way Carlos' lips occasionally part, then scrunch, then close, slowly and over and over, and his tongue works behind and between his perfect teeth, like he is talking himself silently through some scientific problem. Cecil listens to the soft sound of Carlos' breathing, the occasional quiet grunts or huffs, the shockingly loud snores when the scientist happens to roll his head a certain way. Then Cecil steps closer, eases gently down onto the bed, bends over Carlos' neck and takes in the scent of his skin. When finally his chest feels as if it will burst with the sheer beauty of this moment, with affection for this man who is somehow here, somehow _his_ , Cecil combs his fingers into the thick mess of Carlos' hair, pressing a kiss to the spot where Carlos' neck meets his shoulder, and the scientist stirs.

What happens next is different every day.

On Monday, Carlos wakes quickly, curling his fingers into the front of Cecil's shirt and pulling him down into a hungry kiss. Cecil gnaws at Carlos' lower lip, sucks at his tongue, explores Carlos' upper lip with his own tongue. He manages not to break the deep contact of their mouths as he shifts on the bed and straddles the scientist, his hip trapping Carlos' arousal against his stomach. With a long, deep moan, Carlos fumbles at Cecil's buttons and bucks upward with his hips. Cecil pulls wetly away from the kiss, laughing. He catches Carlos' wrists, pinning them at either side of his head.

"Impatient?" he asks. "We've got plenty of time."

Carlos bites his lip, lets out a shuddering breath. Cecil leans in and languorously licks that beautiful mouth.

On Tuesday, Carlos is hazy, his kisses sloppy. Cecil lies next to him and they unhurriedly explore each other, hands and lips and tongues tracing gentle, ghosting, graceless patterns over palms and wrists and chests and necks and cheekbones and scars. They never get completely undressed.

On Wednesday, it is Cecil who is impatient, having spent the day uncomfortably half-hard at the thought of what was waiting for him at home. Carlos is more than willing to oblige. The scientist thrusts back against Cecil's fingers, huffing, panting, moaning as he is roughly worked open. "Fuck me," he growls. " _Hard_." And Cecil does, clutching Carlos' hips tightly enough to leave marks.

Thursday is doubled, and the weather is _long_ , but Cecil almost doesn't make it home thanks to a puppy infestation at Janice Rio's house that threatens to spread to the station. He tasks the interns with building a barricade, and he takes the long way around to get to his apartment, just in case.

Carlos is awake when he arrives, standing in the living room wearing nothing but his lab coat.

"You're late," the scientist admonishes him, hands on his hips. "What are you going to do about this?" He nods down to where his stiff cock is jutting out of the open lab coat.

Cecil is already gazing at it. "Oh," he says, his voice low, and he smiles when Carlos' cock twitches. "My apologies." He drops his keys to the floor. He loosens his tie and tugs it off over his head. He unbuttons his shirt, casts it away. He steps out of his shoes and lets his pants and underwear fall to join them. He rolls off his socks.

Crossing the room, Cecil kneels at Carlos' feet. "Let me convey my _sincere_ regrets for my tardiness," he says. Then he opens his mouth for Carlos' cock, letting his tongue catch the salty fluid gathering at the head and smear it along the shaft as he takes in the entire length.

Carlos fists a hand in Cecil's hair, trembling. "Good," he huffs. "Good."

They'd thought Friday might be canceled due to the Thursday doubling, but City Council ends up canceling next Monday instead, so Cecil has to go to work. Carlos is still awake when Cecil leaves, poring over the results from the previous night's experiments, muttering things like "Aha!" to himself.

When Cecil returns home during the weather, Carlos is fast asleep, and he barely responds to the kisses Cecil showers over his forehead, cheek, and neck. Cecil knows he could wake Carlos pretty easily if he really wanted to, but his scientist is apparently very tired...and for that matter, so is Cecil. It has been a long week, and a long morning at work.

"Scooch," he says softly, sliding into bed and nestling his back against Carlos's chest. A sleepy arm comes up and around Cecil's waist, pulling him close. They doze, Carlos' breath warm at the back of Cecil's neck. Every now and then Carlos rolls his hips just enough to make Cecil stir, but not enough to dig him out of the fugue of sleep.

About half an hour later, Cecil awakens with a start. The weather is going to end in fifteen minutes. He hurriedly disentangles himself, lays a kiss at Carlos' temple.

"It's time to go," he says quietly.

"...but I didn't get to have you," Carlos mumbles, bleary eyes blinking open.

"Later," Cecil promises.

Unfortunately, "later" will not be soon. Station Management has had quite enough of Cecil's jaunts during the weather, according to the blood-red note a quivering intern shoves at him upon his just-in-time return to the station. A night of wailing and keening at their door in supplication is in order, and this time, the task cannot be delegated.

When Cecil finally makes it home at noon the next day, his knees are bruised, his throat is raw, his voice is gone, and he barely has enough energy to get up the stairs and through the front door. Carlos, who is awake and sitting on the couch, springs up to catch him before he falls.

"I'm sorry," Cecil tries to say. It comes out in a whispered croak.

"No, baby, shh," Carlos hushes him, kissing his lips, then his throat. "Let's get you to bed."

Carlos supports the majority of Cecil's weight as they move to the bedroom. Cecil tries not to fall as the scientist leans over to pull back the blanket and sheet. Then Carlos lays Cecil gently down, a hand supporting the back of his neck.

The pillow smells nice. Cecil realizes hazily that Carlos has washed the bedding. He sighs in contentment as the scientist pulls off his shoes and socks, works his pants down his legs, carefully removes his tie, slips his shirt from his shoulders. "Carlos," he rasps dreamily.

"Don't talk," Carlos says. "Can you sit up? I've got a nightshirt for you." He pulls Cecil upright, giving him a brief hug and kiss on the cheek, then working his arms into a cat print pajama top. "There." Carlos lowers Cecil back down and buttons the shirt. "No need to bother with bottoms, I don't think."

"Lecher," Cecil grins, wincing a little.

"I won't deny it," Carlos smirks back. "But you need to stop talking." He kisses Cecil on the forehead. "Go to sleep."

When Cecil wakes hours later, the sun is low in the sky, casting rich orange light across the bed. Carlos is lying next to him, an arm _and_ a leg slung possessively across his body. Cecil chuckles, then groans at the soreness of his throat.

Carlos is awake immediately. "Hi," he says. Cecil has barely huffed the "H" of an answering "Hey" when Carlos abruptly kisses him. "No talking," the scientist admonishes. "Would you like some hot tea with honey?"

Cecil nods. Carlos gives him another kiss, then climbs out of bed. His head is a mess of dark curls, and his white t-shirt is deliciously rumpled, and he scratches absently at his boxers as he heads for the door with the faltering steps of a man still half asleep.

When he returns with the tea, Cecil is propped up on an elbow in anticipation. He can't stop smiling.

Carlos shakes his head with a laugh, presses the hot mug into Cecil's hands. "You're amazing," he says.

Cecil hunches his shoulders in embarrassment, his smile turning shy. He takes a tentative sip; the tea is perfect. "Mmm," he hums, because he's not supposed to talk. Even just making that sound hurts, though not as much as before.

"You wrecked your voice before I had the chance to," Carlos teases. Cecil snorts into the mug. Carlos sits on the bed and lays a hand on Cecil's side, stroking along his hip. "I--I am sorry, though. I didn't know that would happen."

Cecil shakes his head, giving Carlos a _don't you dare blame yourself_ look. He raises an eyebrow, quirks his lips.

It's Carlos' turn to grin with embarrassment. "Okay, you're right," he says. "It _was_ a _really_ good week."

When Cecil has finished the tea, Carlos takes the mug again. "Do you want to get up? Would you like to take a shower?" Cecil nods to the first question but shakes his head to the second. Carlos pulls him to his feet; Cecil finds he's able to support his own weight, but he keeps hold of Carlos' hand just in case. Together they move to the living room, and Carlos deposits Cecil on the couch before carrying the mug back to the kitchen.

"I'll make breakfast. Or dinner," Carlos calls from the kitchen. "Which one do you want?" Cecil chuckles painfully as Carlos rushes to correct himself, "Don't answer that!" The scientist hurries back into the living room. "Breakfast?" he asks. Cecil smiles and gives his silly beloved a nod.

They eat cheesy scrambled eggs with red peppers, chorizo, and onions--Carlos remembers that Cecil doesn't like cilantro. Cecil is given another cup of tea and wishes he could switch to coffee, but the honey is probably helping his throat, so he doesn't complain.

Snuggled together on the couch, they watch _Rio Bravo_ and _Jurassic Park_ and two episodes of _Cosmos_ , Carlos snorting here and there at the scientific inaccuracies of each. Cecil hums and strokes Carlos' hair and fights the urge to croon at him, to express in mellifluous, meandering words the utter happiness he's feeling. He contents himself with dropping occasional kisses on Carlos' shoulder, or his knuckles, or his neck.

Carlos turns to him in the dark, his teeth flashing dimly in the glow of the television. "You're so good to me, Cecil," he murmurs.

This is confusing, because Carlos is the one who has been doing the pampering. Cecil wraps his arms around Carlos' waist and lays his head against the scientist's chest, closing his eyes. _You too_ , he thinks.

They fall asleep like that, waking up hours later to the sunrise pouring in through the kitchen window. Cecil groans and rubs his eyes. Their breakfast plates have been overturned on the coffee table, leftover egg scattered across the surface and onto the floor.

"Aesthetic," says a soft, ancient voice in Cecil's ear, and he shivers.

"...it's lovely," he replies, and realizes he can speak. He smiles and turns his head to kiss Carlos' stomach. "Carlos," he says.

"Cecil," Carlos yawns. "Good morning." The scientist slides a hand up under Cecil's pajama top, tickling his ribs gently. Cecil giggles. "You're sounding better."

"I'm _feeling_ better," Cecil says. "My throat's still sore, but not like it was."

Carlos bends down to kiss Cecil's cheek. "Good," he says. "Are you up for a shower now? I think we could both probably use one."

"That sounds _heavenly_ ," Cecil sighs.

Carlos kisses Cecil under the hot sluice of water, one hand coming up to stroke gently at the radio host's abused throat. His other hand moves lower, ghosting across Cecil's chest and stomach and then skirting around to come up under his balls. Cecil's breath catches, his lips still; Carlos mouths down his jaw and neck, tongue flicking out to taste the skin.

Cecil tips his head back with a groan as Carlos kneels before him, the scientist's hands following the hot trail his mouth is leaving down Cecil's body, then splitting off to slide up the backs of Cecil's legs, to feather across his ass. And suddenly Cecil's cock is cradled between Carlos' lips, and Carlos' tongue is darting oh-so-quickly over the head, teasing, puffs of hot breath a promise of deeper pleasures.

Bracing himself against the side of the shower stall, Cecil trembles with the effort of not thrusting into Carlos' mouth. He curls his fingers into that beautiful hair and moans, loudly. "Carlos," he says, his voice as low as it gets, " _Carlos_."

Carlos answers the need in Cecil's voice with a sudden buck forward, driving Cecil's cock down his throat.

Cecil gasps and shudders and gropes wildly for the towel bar with his free hand, clutching it for dear life as his legs tremble beneath him. Carlos pulls back and slams forward again, sucking and swallowing, tongue frantic. Soon Cecil can't help but match Carlos' movements with thrusts of his own. The scientist grunts, slurping obscenely around Cecil's cock, and a tremor runs through Cecil, and he manages another hard thrust before lights explode in the backs of his eyes and his cock is still twitching in Carlos' mouth and Carlos is sucking at it gently, lapping at it with his tongue, swallowing everything Cecil has to give.

Carlos rises from the floor of the shower and lathers up a washcloth; Cecil barely notices through his heady daze. And then Carlos is soaping up Cecil's arms and chest and cock and ass and legs, giving Cecil a long, slow cleansing as he recovers.

"I'd like to fuck you," Carlos murmurs.

"I'd like to let you," Cecil huffs in response.

Carlos grins and grabs Cecil around the waist, strong hands urging him to spin in place. Cecil obliges, and Carlos wraps his arms around him from behind, pulling him close. "I love you," Carlos says in a soft voice, barely audible over the pounding shower. He bites at Cecil's ear. "I love you."

Carlos takes his time, slowly and methodically working Cecil open with fingers and tongue. He's _very_ scientific that way. Cecil is actually starting to get hard again by the time Carlos is finished. At last Carlos presses the head of his cock against Cecil's hole, pushes it in oh-so-slowly, centimeter by leisurely centimeter.

"This is the gentlest fucking _ever_ ," Cecil says, and Carlos laughs.

Cecil braces his forearms against the tile, and Carlos boxes him in with his arms, splaying his hands on the wall to either side of him. They move in concert, Carlos in long, unhurried thrusts, Cecil pressing eagerly back to accept him. Cecil's legs begin shaking under his own weight; Carlos catches him around the chest with one arm, holding him in place.

"I'm going to speed up now," he says.

"It's about time," Cecil retorts mildly. Carlos nips at his jaw.

Measured thrusts become strong, then wild. Carlos slams into Cecil again and again; Cecil gasps and shudders and his own cock bobs against his stomach, once again fully erect. Finally, with one last, tremulous thrust, Carlos buries his cock deep, huffing a strained moan over Cecil's shoulder.

Carlos slumps against Cecil's back, and Cecil staggers, and suddenly they are both in danger of falling down in the tub. Cecil wills his legs to support them both as he scrabbles for the towel bar again.

Carlos' arms are around him and his lips are on his neck. "Cecil," he is murmuring. "Cecil, Cecil, Cecil."

"Carlos," Cecil grunts, "I can't..."

The weight is suddenly off him as his scientist straightens with a quiet apology. Cecil straightens too, leans back against Carlos, turns his head for a kiss. Carlos peers over Cecil's shoulder.

"Do you need...?" he asks.

"I might die," Cecil says, half-seriously. "Just...let's just get out of the shower."

They make a perfunctory attempt at cleaning up again, lathering and rinsing quickly. Then, wrapped in towels, they settle back onto the couch.

Cecil sighs and leans into Carlos' shoulder.

"Thank you," Carlos says, "for an _amazing_ week."

Cecil is quiet for a moment. He picks at Carlos' towel where it is draped over the scientist's knee. "Maybe I won't be able to do that anymore," he says finally. "Come home. During the weather."

Carlos combs his fingers through Cecil's hair, kneads gently at the back of his neck. "That's fine," the scientist says, and Cecil can hear the soft smile in his voice. "I just love being with you. However it happens. Even if I have to wait. I'll always wait for you, Cecil."

Cecil wraps his arms tightly around Carlos' waist. "And I'll always wait for you," he promises.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first-ever explicit story! Well, the first explicit story I ever posted anywhere, anyway...


End file.
